


Watch Your Step

by orphan_account



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Masturbation, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23355706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Otacon spends some free time to himself.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Watch Your Step

Otacon’s heels ground, pounded into the sweat-stained sheets, bunched and disheveled by his movements. Stuttering as he suppressed moans, his breaths came out labored - even alone, he was too embarrassed to be vocal, but he couldn’t restrain the occasional gasp or hitch of breath. One hand firm on his cock, the other pushing a cylinder-shaped toy through his hole, mouth ajar as his head laid back against the pillows. His sharp hip bones and dark patches of coarse hair face upwards to the slowly circling ceiling fan, lube slathered hectically across the palms of his limber hands, jerking loud and lewd.

He had no specific fantasy in mind, per se, but rather just the need to release stress from a particularly hectic string of codes. Taking a break and running through his routine keyword search, he figured _why not?_ , as well as an excuse to try out his new toy. It was nothing special, just something he had picked up while out getting groceries for him and Snake. As much as they were wanted terrorists, Otacon figured a sex shop wouldn’t second guess him, provided he looked older than 18. They did, however, have security camera screenshots of shoplifters pinned around the store at the crime scenes, which he couldn’t help but smirk at. A juvenile thing for an adult store, but after looking at the prices he began to empathize. Philanthropy did _not_ need their faces tacked up for stealing a dildo for Otacon’s own intentions, so he settled for the cheapest, simplest looking toy he could find. It was targeted towards women, but he paid it no real mind - if it gets the job done, it gets the job done. Some were angled to reach the g-spot, which he briefly pondered if that would reach the prostate before a young woman asked if he was finding everything all right. 

With a nervous and jerky nod of his head, bangs tucked back in a baseball cap for the local team, he approached the counter and laid out his items, avoiding her gaze. She didn’t seem to mind - probably used to awkward customers merely wanting to pay and leave - but she did still try to keep polite chit-chat during the transaction. While she talked about how the forecast didn’t call for rain, she had a suspicion it would storm within the next couple days. There was not a single cloud in the sky and she didn’t elaborate so Hal paid in cash and left hastily with a brief nod in farewell.

It was when Otacon could practically taste his release did he hear the pantry door creak, his blood immediately freezing and motions stopping. The only person who would open the pantry would be Snake, who… shouldn’t be home. He had left earlier for a jog and hadn’t been out nearly as long as his usual runs. After Snake had departed with a vague wave of his hand - typical for him - was when Otacon, half-awake, stumbled over his own feet and grabbed onto the pantry door for support, knocking it slightly off its hinges. It still shut fine but whined when being opened, which Snake wouldn’t have known about.

Snake had a very precise sense of hearing; he had to, of course. It was amazing that he was able to sleep at night, despite the hum of Otacon’s computers constantly running, the other residents of the dingy apartment moving about or the flow of traffic that never seemed to cease buzzing outside their windows. Well, really, Otacon never knew how Snake slept, as they didn’t share or a room or the same sleep schedule. Snake would walk into the kitchen at the crack of dawn, either fresh out of the shower or on his way for a run when Otacon would be on his way to sleep, the sunlight his cue to sleep whereas it was Snake’s natural alarm clock.

Nevertheless, Otacon held his breath and strained his ears to listen to Snake. Pantry door closed, glass from the cupboard, fridge, milk?, fridge, sink. In his hand, his erection softened slightly, Otacon inhaling slowly while beginning a languid rhythm of stroking himself, orgasm momentarily stalled. Kitchen, living space. From down the hallway he couldn’t completely make out what Snake was doing, daring himself to pour more lube onto his hand and increasing his speed. When the sound of other people conversing came from the television, Otacon closed his eyes in a sigh and began quickening his rhythm, adding more lube to the dildo and pushing it back inside, tilting his head back in concentration. 

Swallowing dryly, his breathing picked up, tip red and leaking. “Ah,” a hiccuping breath, throwing his arm over his mouth and tugging harder. “ _Fuck_.” It had been such a long time since Otacon had any penetration, and the foreign but familiar sensation kept pulling him towards the brink of orgasm.

From within the apartment, Snake sneezed. Closer than Otacon expected. Halting, he removed his arm and stared at the door, trying to steady his breath as Snake approached.

“Otacon?” Snake knocked twice, gently. “It’s starting to storm. Is your window open?” Turning his head to look over, Otacon realized _yes_ , his windows were open and it was pouring. The girl at the shop was right. “Are you awake?” Pause, listening for a response. 

“A-- Ah, yeah,” Otacon exhales.

“Yeah you’re awake or yeah your window is open?” _Go away!_

“Both. I’ll close it.”

“Okay.” Snake lingers for a moment, and Otacon realizes he’s waiting for him to close the window. He’s the type of person who wants things done immediately, whereas Otacon waits until it’s convenient for him. “If you’re busy, I can do it for you.” Apparently, Snake wanted it closed _now_.

“I’ve got it, Snake,” his words come out with a little more aggression than he intended, the shadow beneath his door disappearing after a few more seconds of a pause. Focusing on where Snake went next, Otacon let himself exhale the breath he had been holding when he heard the bathroom door close.

Finally - _thankfully_ \- the shower started running, Otacon throwing his worries out the window and jerking, despite his aching wrists. He was so close and Snake was not going to stop him by interrupting his personal time because he returned earlier than anticipated. Having to also keep Snake in mind of overhearing started to chew at his anxiety, but Otacon looked out of his peripheral vision to see his computers had finished their search and were starting to update. Okay, fine. He could do this.

Shifting his position to be up on his knees with his face in the sheets, a couple thrusts in he hit his prostate, poorly muffling a moan when he spilled into his hand, panting heavily. Pulling the toy out and rolling onto his back, he lay still, staring up at the fan. After a while he got cold after coming down from his brief orgasmic high, wiping his hands off on his sheets and pulling them off to go clean. Lazily redressing, he listened to hear Snake still in the shower, slinking down the hall to get a glass of water and wash his hands off. Snake had left the television on, playing a rerun of Rocko’s Modern Life. Grabbing a bagel, Otacon sat on the couch, lazily stretching out like a cat in rest. 

“Hey,” Snake called, wrapped in a towel in the doorway of the bathroom. “Did you close your window?”

“Oh. No, I forgot.” Nodding in a way that Otacon took as _I figured_ , Snake treks towards Otacon’s room to close it. He realizes too late he had left both the toy and lube laying on his bed, his face turning red as he stared down the hall. Snake returns, expression the same stoic way, undisturbed by anything he would’ve seen. There’s no way he couldn’t have seen it, especially with the wide-eyed look Otacon knew he had. 

“Doesn’t look like anything got wet,” he says cooly, then going into his own room to change. Sneaking back to his room, Otacon sees nothing had been put out of place, but it was _very_ obvious what he had been up to. Hastily tossing his items under his pillow, he closed his door and sighed.

“By the way,” comes Snake’s voice from his bedroom, slightly muffled behind his door, “you might want to get better at stealth. Can’t leave any evidence behind, you know.”


End file.
